How to Housebreak Your Son's Dragon
by Tlalen
Summary: Stoick and Toothless reach an understanding.
1. Show Some Respect

How to Housebreak Your Son's Dragon

Chapter 1: Show Some Respect

* * *

With all their warships burned, the Vikings of Berk faced quite a dilemma after the battle with the Green Death. It soon became evident that they were all going to have to follow Hiccup's example, and hitch a ride on the back of a dragon, if any of them were ever going to get back to their sturdy little village. The dragons were remarkably accommodating, and it wasn't long before small groups of Vikings were taking to the skies, bound for home.

Only four souls remained on the dragon's island by the end of the day. One was the unconscious boy. Another was Stoick, who refused to leave his son's side, and the third was Gobber, who refused to leave Stoick's. The fourth was the boy's dragon. Stoick would have risked flying home on one of the creatures himself, his son in his arms, if it hadn't been for Toothless. After everything the dragon had done for his son, Stoick was determined to honor the bond between them. Hiccup and Toothless would return to the village together, or not at all.

Patting his old friend on the shoulder, Gobber hobbled off in search of firewood. The thick curtain of night was closing in, and there was already a whisper of the impending winter in the air. It would be several hours before their fastest fishing boat, with Astrid serving as an aerial guide aboard her Deadly Nadder, would be able to reach the fog-bound isle.

"_There_ we go," Gobber sighed, heaving a satisfactory armful of branches and half-burnt timbers onto the ground between Stoick and the Night Fury. "Should last us until the ship gets here, at least." He dropped to his knees and began stacking the wood into a pyramid.

Toothless, who had a horrible headache and had been drifting in-and-out of consciousness for a while, suddenly seemed to revive. He lifted his head off the ground, eyes fixed on what Gobber was doing. He had seen Hiccup arrange sticks in a similar fashion plenty of times, and knew what it meant.

Gobber noticed the dragon's interest and shrugged at him with the mallet he was currently using for a hand. "Heh. Wonder if we can't persuade _him_ to light it for us."

It hadn't been a serious comment. It was more intended to get a smile, or at least a _blink_, out of the stone-faced Stoick. But with a throaty hiss that gave Gobber quite a start, Toothless spat a tiny blue streak of flame into the heart of the wood pile, creating an instant bonfire.

The flames reflected in Stoick's eyes as his gaze met the dragon's. "Wait a minute…" Stoick muttered. "Do you… understand our speech?" Toothless gazed back at him, the very picture of innocence, until at last the Viking chief averted his eyes. "No…" he grumbled. "No, of course not. Foolish of me."

Gobber looked impressed. "Hiccup must've taught him to do that," he remarked, settling down beside Stoick so he could get another look at burnt stump of Hiccup's leg. "Quite a useful trick, if you lose your flint or your tinder gets wet."

"…How did he do it, Gobber?" Stoick breathed, looking Toothless over from head to tail and back again. "How did he…_tame_ it?"

"I've no idea," Gobber replied with good-natured abruptness. "But, you can bet that'll be the _first_ thing I ask him, when he wakes up."

Stoick's eyes changed shape as Gobber's optimism brought a smile to his weathered face. It wasn't the sort of smile that managed to show through his beard, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

Gobber was quick to see it steal across his old friend's face.

Toothless saw it too, but was feeling too tired and miserable to return it with a smile of his own.

* * *

When the rescue ship finally reached the island, late that night, Toothless followed the Vikings aboard. Astrid landed her squawking Nadder on the deck beside them, a satchel of bandages and other emergency supplies slung over her shoulder. She stood bravely next to Toothless, patting his head, while Gobber and Stoick lit torches and got down to the dreadful business of properly amputating the unsalvageable bits of Hiccup's leg. Toothless, for his part, wasn't entirely comfortable with whatever the two large humans were doing to his boy, but he trusted Astrid's behavior enough to refrain from intervening.

Finally the task was done. As Vikings, they'd seen plenty of severed limbs, and Hiccup's was a little better off than some, since it had been partially cauterized already. Stoick took a deep breath, standing back and looking his son over, satisfied by the sight of the cleanly bandaged stump. But then he realized that Hiccup's face was bluish grey, and a hand to the boy's forehead confirmed his fears.

"What is it?" Gobber asked worriedly. "Has he got a fever?"

"The opposite," Stoick rumbled. "Skin's cold. He's in shock. His body's…shutting down."

"Well, I can hardly blame 'im," Gobber remarked. He watched in puzzlement as the chief took off his bearskin cape, and wrapped it around the boy. "You know, Stoick, one thing about dragons…"

"I don't want to encourage it to breathe fire aboard the ship, if that's what you're thinking," Stoick warned.

"No, no, not that," Gobber insisted. "It's just, when you're around them often enough, you can't help but noticing…"

"Of course," Astrid said suddenly, her eyes lighting up as she caught on to Gobber's idea. "Dragons are always _warm_. Give him to Toothless."

The dragon's ears perked up at the sound of his name, and with rounded eyes he looked back and forth between the humans, hoping to understand what they wanted from him.

Willing to try anything, Stoick gathered Hiccup in his arms and carried him towards the soot-black dragon. Toothless tipped his head to the side a little to try and get a better look at the unconscious boy as the Viking chief approached.

"…Here," Stoick said to the dragon, his voice catching hoarsely in his throat. "Hold on to him. Keep him warm. Please."

The dragon narrowed his eyes.

"Call him by name," Astrid suggested.

"…Toothless," Stoick muttered at last, not liking the misleading name at all but determined to gain the creature's cooperation. Toothless gave a low rumble of response, watching placidly as Stoick knelt on the deck beside him and reached for the leading edge of one of his great wings. Their eyes locked, Toothless allowed the human to touch his wing, and when Stoick began to lift it up, Toothless helpfully raised it the rest of the way.

Stoick eyed the Night Fury's clumsy forelegs with their wicked-looking black claws. Then he gently placed his son right back where he'd found him, entrusting the boy's life to the dragon's care once again.

This action seemed to be of considerable significance to the dragon, for he gazed into the chief's eyes for a long and solemn moment before riveting his full attention on the boy. With a worried purr, Toothless wrapped his limbs around the boy's scrawny body and hugged him to his chest, and then folded a wing around him, blanket-like, for added protection from the wind.

The rest of the trip back to Berk was uneventful, with Toothless dozing on the deck, occasionally opening one eye just a slit in order to peek at the boy under his wing. Stoick crouched silently next to the dragon for the entire voyage, and though his outward composure was like that of a calm sea, his mind was a whirling storm of thoughts and resolutions. His village, his tribe, would have to change. It would all be different now. As the chief, his people would be looking to him to lead the way.

It was obvious to Stoick that his own tolerance of the Night Fury beside him was going to be the key to the future of Berk's relationship with dragons. He would have to befriend the creature, just as his son had done. That would be the way to set the proper example for the tribe. Hopefully, the devil would cooperate.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when the watch fires of the village appeared on the horizon like a pair of burning eyes. By the time they reached the docks, the entire tribe had gathered to welcome home their hero and his already-famous dragon.

Toothless eyed the assembled crowds with obvious distrust, but when Astrid, Gobber and Stoick leapt ashore, Toothless knew he had to follow them. Unable to fly, and with no idea how long Hiccup would need the care of his own kind, Toothless had resolved to endure the humans for as long as necessary. He was a dragon, after all, and had an ancient capacity for patience, no matter how little he liked to use it.

Disembarking the ship with his boy still clutched to his chest presented something of a challenge. Toothless couldn't jump ashore using his hind legs alone, and any combination of wings and hind legs that he tried to use just seemed like an even greater recipe for disaster. So, after teetering uncertainly on the edge of the ship for a moment or two, Toothless changed tactics. He laid Hiccup down on the deck, and then picked him up with his mouth (teeth retracted, of course) as if the boy were nothing more than a big bony fish.

There was a gasp from the crowd at the sight of the boy in the dragon's mouth, but Stoick was quick to silence them.

"It's all right, it's _all right_," Stoick boomed to settle them, and then looked over his shoulder at the dragon. "At least, it had better be," he muttered.

"Rrrrh," Toothless said around his mouthful of scrawny Viking teen. He leapt off the ship with the grace of a leopard, deposited the boy at his father's feet, and then immediately hacked up a stray bit of bear fur. "Gyagh," Toothless remarked, shaking his head in the universal reaction to something that had tasted horrible.

Stoick took a deep breath. This was it. "Hear me now," he addressed the crowd. "This dragon-" he indicated Toothless with a dramatic sweep of his hand. "-is now a member of my family. And from this day on, any dragon that is willing to accept our hospitality will be welcomed here as a part of the tribe. The war is over. Dragons are no longer our enemies."

The crowd broke into murmurs of reaction and discussion, most of which sounded positive. The definition of Viking 'hospitality' seemed to be up for debate, but Stoick decided he would worry about providing clarification later. Stoick glanced down at Toothless, who had ignored the speech entirely and was busily gnawing on one of the frayed ends of his harness.

"Come on," Stoick rumbled. "Let's go home." He bent down to pick up his son, but at that, Toothless forgot about his harness and bared his teeth at the chief, growling a warning. Stoick froze, and a sudden hush swept over the crowd, as they waited to see what their chief would do.

It was a tense moment. Stoick was unused to backing down when a dragon presumed to threaten him. But all it took was a glance at the still-unconscious Hiccup to remind him that everything was different now. Slowly, deliberately, Stoick stepped back, and then turned and strode purposefully away.

Toothless cocked his head to one side and considered this turn of events, and then without a second thought, he scooped Hiccup up in his mouth again and trotted after the chief.

The Vikings of Berk had enough sense to clear the way, and this was how Hiccup the Hero made his triumphant return to his village: carried in his dragon's jaws, rolled up in his father's bearskin cape, with only his tousled red hair visible from one end and one lone boot protruding from the other.

When they reached the chief's hut at the top of the hill, Stoick swung open the door and stood aside. Toothless, however, was not familiar with the concept of going into and out of buildings yet, and so when the chief stopped, so did he.

"Gh," Stoick harrumphed, motioning with a stiff nod of his head that he wanted Toothless to go in.

"Gh?" Toothless mimicked as best he could, eyes wide.

"Get in there," Stoick muttered, conscious that the eyes of the entire village were still on them.

"Gh_hn_hrrr," Toothless rumbled, playing along. When Stoick didn't move or do anything else, Toothless sat down on his haunches, right there in front of the door.

Thankfully, Gobber seemed to understand what the problem was. Clearing his throat, he stepped around the seated Night Fury and hobbled into the house. Toothless watched the man disappear into the dark confines of the structure with only mild curiosity, but when Astrid patted his neck and then followed Gobber inside, the light came on.

Without another second's delay, Toothless darted through the door, his hind end wriggling as one of his wings didn't quite clear the frame. Stoick watched as the black tail with its missing fin swished across the threshold and then vanished inside the house.

Heaving a mighty sigh which sent his helmet sliding off to the side a bit, Stoick followed his newly-declared family member into the house, and closed the door.

...to be continued...

* * *

_Author's note: hang in there, everybody. The fun stuff is coming up next! :D_


	2. Let It Eat

Chapter 2: Let It Eat

* * *

As soon as Toothless found himself standing smack-dab in the middle of the Viking's living room, his ears perked up and his nostrils quivered. With pupils fully dilated to compensate for the dim light, he looked from side to side. The human's den was no more than an odd wooden cave, which Toothless immediately sensed that he could burn and bash his way out of should he need to escape. But escape was the last thing on his reptilian mind. He sniffed the musky air, just once, and once was enough. The place smelled overwhelmingly of Stoick, but it smelled like Hiccup too. This was clearly the den that the two of them shared. Toothless smelled leather, wool and fur, ash and charcoal from the embers of the fire, and iron and steel and a little dried blood from the weapons and shields hanging on the walls. But most of all, he smelled fish.

At the first whiff of food, the dragon automatically began trying to digest what he was currently carrying in his mouth, and Toothless gagged once or twice as he realized that he was going to have to put Hiccup down if he wanted to be able to eat a decent meal.

Astrid had already knelt by the hearth, rekindling the fire. She happened to look over her shoulder just in time to see Toothless set Hiccup down head-first on the floor, and she winced in reaction.

"Be careful with him!" Stoick admonished, grumpily removing his helmet and hanging it up.

The chief's only son was now face-down on the floor, his dragon looming over him as if he might accidentally crush the boy with his next step. Toothless, for his part, was too busy clearing his throat of half-digested fur from Stoick's cape to care that the chief had shouted at him.

"The lad's been through worse, Stoick," Gobber commented from across the room, in a half-humorous attempt to calm the chief down.

"I'm well aware of that, Gobber. But _now _that he's home, I'd like him to avoid further harm!"

"Glurf, ghluff," Toothless coughed, mouth open wide and face scrunched up in concentration. "_Gglaghf!_"

Exasperated, Stoick thrust his hand towards the Night Fury, palm flat. "What is this? What's it doing now?" Stoick demanded.

Gobber shrugged, and Astrid blinked a few times. "I—I think he's trying to _throw up_ on him," Astrid guessed.

The three Vikings watched, aghast, as Toothless finally spat up last soggy clump of fur. It landed with a squishy plop on Hiccup's shoulder, causing Astrid to make a thoroughly grossed-out face. Toothless worked his jaws a few times, as if to make sure he'd gotten the taste out of his mouth. Then, seemingly oblivious to the presence of his disgusted audience, he gave a quick, frustrated nibble to the twisted harness strap that was chafing his ribs, and promptly set out in search of fish.

"Perfect!" Stoick ranted. "It saves the day, saves my son, carries him home like a dog carries a stick, drops him on the _floor _and _spits_ on him!"

"And _now_," Gobber added, cheerfully matter-of-fact, "it's eating your dinner."

Sure enough, the dragon had already found a modest supply of smoked salmon, and was greedily swallowing it away.

Stoick narrowed his eyes. "…Let it eat," he muttered at last. Astrid looked up in surprise. Stoick's gaze was fixed on the Night Fury across the room. "…he's earned a good meal."

Gobber's stomach rumbled audibly, as if on cue. "I think we _all_ have," he said pointedly.

"I'll worry about that in a minute," Stoick sighed, and then deliberately began to march up the steep stairs to the loft. "Come on, Gobber. We'll move Hiccup's bed downstairs so I can keep a better eye on him."

* * *

Half an hour later, Toothless had finished his meal, the two men had finished rearranging the furniture, and Hiccup was safely tucked into his own bed in the middle of the main room. After Gobber and Stoick's comments about food, Astrid had taken the initiative to run down to her parents' house and fetch a couple of feast-sized portions of bread and mutton. Toothless gave these items only a cursory sniff, and then went back to gnawing on the warped metal of his harness, allowing the three humans to eat in peace.

For a while, the only sounds were the flutterings and cracklings of the fire and the clink of mugs and plates against the table as the three ravenous Vikings downed the first meal they'd had since the previous day's breakfast.

Finally Gobber wiped his mouth on his forearm, loosed a reverberating burp (a talent for which he had gained some renown) to signify that he was done eating, and promptly began to unfasten the oversized stein he'd been using for a hand. "I think I've figured it out," he announced.

"What's that?" Stoick muttered.

Gobber tossed his massively large chin in the direction of the dragon. "How Hiccup made friends with it."

"How?" Stoick asked.

"Fixed his tail."

All three pairs of human eyes focused on the Night Fury's maimed tail. "Y'see," Gobber continued, gesturing with his stump of an arm. "It's all burnt up now, but I don't think that saddle contraption is just for Hiccup to sit on. See the cables? I think he was _steering _the dragon's tail. That's why the beast had to trust him. He couldn't _fly _without him."

"Seems obvious enough," Stoick grumbled.

"I'm not so sure about that," Astrid spoke up. "I don't know _what_ his crazy saddle-thing is supposed to do, but when he took _me_ up for a ride, Toothless pretty much did whatever he wanted to—Hiccup didn't seem to have any control over him at all."

Astrid blinked in surprised as she realized that both men were staring at her in shock. "…what?" she asked. "What'd I say?"

"D'you mean…you mean you _knew _about it?" Stoick asked, taken aback.

"No—yes—it was right after the Elder chose Hiccup over me on our final day of training," Astrid explained in a rush, turning pink with embarrassment. "I… wanted to know what his secret was, so I followed him… and I found out."

"And you didn't _tell me?_" demanded Gobber and Stoick in unison. Astrid looked back and forth between her Chief and her teacher, but her embarrassed expression hardened into one of resolution.

"No," she said, her voice firm. "Hiccup asked me not to. I promised him I wouldn't."

Stoick the Vast's face had never looked more serious. He leaned across the table, and placed a heavy hand on Astrid's shoulder. "And if you had _broken_ that promise, Hiccup and his dragon would both be locked up, and that _monster_ would still be out on that island. You did the right thing."

A tiny, proud smile lit Astrid's face.

"Well," sighed Gobber, heaving himself off the bench he'd been sitting on. "Whatever that contraption does, I'm going to need a better look at it. And have you noticed how the poor brute's been _chewing_ at it all this time? I bet he'll be happy to be rid of it." Clearly ready to get down to business, Gobber picked up his standard hook-hand and anchored it in place on his arm. "Astrid, since he was letting you pet him earlier today, why don't you see if he'll let you undo the buckles?"

"Right," Astrid agreed, pushing herself away from the table and hurrying over to Toothless.

"Gobber, wait," Stoick said quietly, just as his friend was turning away. Gobber turned back to face him, mildly surprised. The chief looked down at the table, his hulking shoulders slumped forward. "…I haven't had a chance to ask you yet, but… Hiccup's foot…"

Gobber smiled. "No worries. I'm two steps ahead of you there. Or, a step and a bit of a hobble at least. His dragon'll have a new tail, and he'll have a new foot to match."

Stoick didn't seem reassured. He glanced down at Gobber's peg leg. "When you lost yours…"

"…You were right there beside me. And you'll be there every inch of the way for Hiccup too."

Stoick looked up at his friend. "It will be all right," he said in a way that was just barely a question.

"It will be all right," Gobber confirmed, and that time it was definitely an answer. "Now. What do you say we unsaddle that Night Fury?"

* * *

As with many tasks in the arduous life of a Viking, unsaddling the Night Fury proved to be easier said than done. While Toothless did indeed allow Astrid to touch the remains of the harness, all the clasps and buckles had been melted and warped beyond use. Gobber and Stoick had all the necessary tools to cut the straps, but once they brandished them, what they _didn't_ have was a cooperative dragon.

Toothless may have decided that the humans weren't necessarily a threat, but that didn't mean he was going to let them near his hide with a bunch of their sharp metal objects. Consequently, he led the three well-intentioned Vikings on a loud and largely destructive chase around and around the house, until finally Stoick and Gobber managed to ambush him at the same time from opposite directions.

In unison, the two men grabbed hold of the dragon's harness, and wrapped their other arm around one of the stout pillars holding up the roof. With Toothless pulling upwards and backwards, Stoick pulling down and to the right, and Gobber pulling down and to the left, and all three roaring at the top of their lungs, the harness finally ripped apart.

Suddenly freed from his uncomfortable trappings, Toothless ceased to struggle. While the Vikings watched, gasping for breath, the dragon blinked his round eyes, shook his head, then shook his whole body once, and shuffled off to get a better smell of the leftover sheep bones from the Viking's meal.

"There!" Gobber declared, his good mood promptly restored. "Saddle off."

"And in pieces," Stoick grumbled, picking up a length of the singed and twisted leather. "Will you be able to reconstruct it?"

Gobber shrugged. "Sure, no problem. Knowing Hiccup, I'm sure he's got the whole design for it drawn out someplace. I'll take a peek at his side of the shop."

Although she tried to fight it, Astrid couldn't stop herself. She yawned.

"I saw that," Gobber acknowledged. "You've had a busy day, young lady. I think it's about time the both of us cleared out."

"Is there anything else I can do for Hiccup?" the girl asked, looking up at Stoick with worried eyes.

The chief's expression softened a bit. "You can come and check on him as often as you like," he assured her. "But I'm sure he'll keep for a while. You go home and get some sleep."

"I'm off as well," Gobber said to Stoick, gathering the last bits of the broken harness. "Give you some time to get better acquainted with your new, um, family pet."

* * *

Once Gobber and Astrid had gone, Stoick sat and stared into the fire for a long time, gathering his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Toothless shuffled from one end of the house to the other, smelling, tasting, and nudging everything he found, making a thorough exploration of the human's den. After a while there was only one thing in the house that was still a mystery to him:

Stoick.

Toothless suddenly realized that the large Man had been ignoring him. And, just like that, Stoick became the sole focus of the dragon's attention.

Cautiously, Toothless lowered his head until it was nearly scraping the ground, and he began to creep towards the chief, one soundless step at a time. In a shadowy forest, he might have been quite stealthy. In the middle of the Viking's hut, however, he was like a shark trying to sneak around in a goldfish bowl. Still, he managed to get within ten feet of the chief before the massive man turned an eye on him.

Caught in Stoick's steely sideways glare, Toothless froze, and then sat up. He was obviously pleased with himself for getting Stoick's attention, and his earflaps stood straight up, asking a silent, optimistic question.

Stoick didn't care how cute Toothless looked. In fact, now that the animal's predatory stalking behavior had stopped, Stoick didn't care about Toothless one way or the other. "Feh," the chief grumbled, and looked back at the fire. He had bigger things to worry about than one inquisitive and (probably) not-dangerous Night Fury.

Toothless blinked a few times, confused as to why he was being ignored again. He looked at the fire, trying to see what could possibly be so interesting about it, but the flames seemed completely unremarkable. With only a second's hesitation, he crawled closer to the chief until he was right beside him, and turned so that he could gaze into the flames from the same angle as Stoick. Toothless leaned forward, squinting, but still the fire seemed boring and normal, and nowhere near as nice as one of the explosive fireballs of his own creation.

After a few seconds of this staring-at-the-fire exercise, Toothless became impatient. He wagged his tail a bit, his one tail fin gently slapping at the floor, until finally his curiosity about Stoick got the better of him.

Something had to be done about the large human, and Toothless had just decided on a course of action.

Toothless was going to make friends with him.

...to be continued...

* * *

_Author's note: Hi! Sorry it took me so long to update. The chapter that I originally wrote for chapt 2 is now chapt 3, so it won't be quite so long before the next update. Thanks for your patience!_


	3. Establish A Connection

Chapter 3: Establish A Connection

* * *

When Stoick the Vast made a decision, he tended to act on it very quickly. Hence, when he'd decided to "befriend" his son's dragon, he had promptly declared the creature to be part of his family, welcomed it into his home and allowed it free access to food. Providing these basics of status, shelter and sustenance was as far as Stoick had intended to go—after all, that was how he had raised his own child for all these years. What more could the devil want?

Unfortunately for Stoick, the Night Fury's definition of friendship was a little more…involved.

Face to face with the mighty Viking chief, Toothless sat as a dog would sit, a pose that Hiccup had always praised him for, as it made his gangling reptilian body appear aesthetically compact and manageable. Indeed, the dragon in the middle of the Viking's hut now resembled a single, solid black stone, glistening in the light of the fire.

One of Stoick's eyes twitched in impatience, and then in confusion as the dragon arched his sturdy neck, politely unhinged his jaws, and presented the chief with a full view of the toothless gums that had inspired his name.

"What're you doing?" Stoick grumbled in suspicion, unimpressed with this deceptive display of harmlessness.

Toothless closed his mouth, and fixed Stoick with a cool look of tolerance. Clearly, the beast was deigning to allow the human a reaction.

Stoick blinked a few times, unevenly, revealing his lack of comprehension. "…That all you wanted to show me? That you can hide your teeth?" he demanded, struggling not to shout in outrage. "Wonderful. At least it explains the ridiculous name. Now will you leave me alone?" He pointed to the far side of the room. "Sit! Over! There!"

Unfazed by all this pointing and yelling, Toothless proceeded with his particular version of introductions. Since he had so generously allowed this man the measure of familiarity required in order to be shown a Night Fury's tooth-free mouth, he expected the man to return the favor. And there _was_ something of Stoick's that Toothless was terribly curious about, something that Hiccup most certainly did not have, which Toothless had decided he would be permitted to investigate as soon as he had made the first offering of goodwill.

This item of interest was nothing other than Stoick's fearsome _beard_, which in Toothless' estimation set Stoick apart from Hiccup as almost an entirely different _species_ of human. What _was_ that furry haystack on the man's face? What did it do?

Narrowing his eyes and flaring his nostrils, Toothless nudged his nose forward and took a deep, evaluative sniff of the chief's whiskers.

Stoick reeled backwards in surprise, but his motion was not quick enough to evade Toothless' snapping gums, which clamped shut on Stoick's beard in the next instant.

To a casual observer, this might have looked like a curious dragon wanting to see what the beard would _do_ if given a casual nip. But in fact, the flame-red beard of Stoick the Vast just so happened to smell strongly of the herring Stoick had eaten for yesterday's breakfast, and the Night Fury simply couldn't resist the urge to bite it.

Unsurprisingly, the Viking chief was not in a mood to let his whiskers be chomped off for a dragon snack, and with a furious battle cry he crashed one of his huge fists down squarely onto Toothless' nose.

With eyes suddenly snakelike, Toothless reared back, roaring in pain and shock. His wings burst out to their fullest extent, filling the room with a gust of wind that roused the fire and rattled the timbers of the roof. After Toothless had been behaving so magnanimously all this time, how _dare_ this man strike him? Where was this man's _fear_? Hiccup always showed the right amount of respect. It was what made his presence endurable. _This_ human, _this _Viking, wasn't showing any respect at all.

Besides, Toothless' nose was _sensitive_, and he didn't appreciate having it bashed just for trying to get a tasty tidbit of herring out of a funny furry haystack.

Stoick's lip curled in a sneer, his eyes hard and cold. They were the eyes of a killer, and they compelled Toothless to match their steely gaze.

This man had no respect, no fear at all. No _awe_. Keeping his wings out for effect, Toothless widened his mouth; teeth extended this time, and banshee-screamed at Stoick as fiercely as he could, intending to intimidate him.

But the scream had a decidedly different effect, as the chief's eyes acquired an eager gleam, and his sneer broadened into a deadly grin. Stoick clenched his hands into fists, took a mighty breath, and then returned the dragon's scream with a rumbling yell so powerful and ferocious that it seemed to encompass _all _the yells of all the warriors of Berk, present and past.

Toothless' eyes seemed to glow as their pupils shrank to blade-like slits. Man and dragon regarded one another in mutual hatred and disgust, the shuddering fire providing the only movement in the room—

-Until a slight furrow appeared on Hiccup's brow, as if in response to a half-felt twinge of pain.

"_Nn_," uttered the unconscious boy, and both dragon and chief automatically swiveled their heads to look at him, their quarrel forgotten. They seemed frozen for half a second, and then they raced to Hiccup's side. Stoick's feet pounded the floor like hammers, and Toothless covered the distance in one froglike leap, tail swinging and knocking over a bench in the process.

They arrived at the boy's bedside at exactly the same time, jostling into one another.

"You infernal—he's my _son!_" Stoick growled, elbowing a gigantic black wing out of his way. "Move over!"

By sheer force of will, Stoick shoved the dragon back and fell into place at Hiccup's side. His hand found Hiccup's on the bed, and he interlocked their fingers. "Son?" Stoick half-whispered, his voice desperate. "Hiccup, can you hear me?"

Stoick held his breath, studying the boy's face, searching for any sign that he might be close to waking.

Toothless, meanwhile, had crawled around to the foot of the bed. From that vantage point, he had a clear view of both humans, and after quickly confirming that Hiccup's condition hadn't changed, Toothless riveted his gaze on Stoick. And suddenly he saw what he'd been looking for.

_There_ was the fear, the respect, the _awe_ in the chief's eyes. Not for Toothless, but for _Hiccup_! Toothless found this quite extraordinary, and swished his tail a bit in approval. And then he noticed something even more fascinating: the phenomenon of Stoick's meaty hand, holding tightly to Hiccup's much bonier one.

By simply clasping his son's hand, the Viking chief had not only captured Toothless' attention: he had given the dragon something terribly meaningful to ponder. Toothless gazed at their joined hands in rapt amazement, his pupils swollen into inky ovals, absorbing every detail of the scene.

After a long, expectant moment, the chief gradually came to terms with the fact that his son was still in a coma.

"What're you staring at?" Stoick muttered to the dragon. With his face arranged in its standard scowl, he tracked Toothless' gaze.

Their hands. The dragon was staring intently at their hands. Stoick couldn't say for sure why that annoyed him, but it did. "Look," he commanded, as patiently as he was able. "This boy is my own flesh and blood, my only child."

Toothless didn't react, and Stoick got the impression that the beast's thoughts were far away. "…Do you understand?" Stoick asked, gruff but sincere. He gave Hiccup's hand a little squeeze, and at that, the dragon flinched. Stoick let another moment pass, hoping that his intended meaning was sinking in, and then he gently put Hiccup's hand back down on the bed. Toothless immediately craned his neck to sniff the boy's hand, and then focused his gaze on Stoick.

The dragon's expression, if it could be called that, was one of wary hope. He had been given a revelatory idea. Perhaps he _could_ communicate with this horrible human after all, using the language that Hiccup himself had first used to communicate with Toothless.

Toothless sat himself onto his haunches again, and carefully lifted one of his front paws in Stoick's direction. "Rrrk?" the dragon offered, with a little head-thrust of encouragement.

Stoick raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Rrrk!" Toothless urged again, nodding again at his own outstretched paw. To Stoick's disbelief, the dragon's eyes glimmered in a way that almost seemed to say _please_.

With a jolt, the Viking chief shook himself free of the dragon's mesmerizing gaze. What was this confounded dragon _doing?_ Was it offering its paw to _shake_, like a dog? For some reason, the idea offended him.

"This is absurd," Stoick blurted out, backing away. "Get your claws out of my face." With a frustrated huff, the man turned and tromped away.

"_Nrrrhn_?" Toothless' eyes had never been wider, nor had his expression ever been so stunned. The Viking chief had _turned his back _on Toothless' offer of friendship—the one gesture that Toothless had been _certain_ the man would understand. Bewildered, Toothless looked down at his paw, wondering for an instant if there was something wrong with it, something he had stepped in, perhaps. But no—his foot was not only clean, it was as beautiful a specimen of Night Fury foot as you were likely to find anywhere in the archipelago. Toothless looked back up. Had he just been _insulted_, then? Surely it was an unforgiveable affront, when a dragon stooped to offering a truce on a human's terms, only to be denied reciprocation.

"HRAWWR!" The dragon spat, and then gazed desperately at Hiccup for guidance. The Viking chief couldn't have meant to insult Toothless. It must have been a mistake. But where had it gone awry? What had Toothless done wrong? He searched the boy's expressionless face, his freckles, his pale lips, his closed eyes.

Suddenly Toothless perked up. He had just remembered something important, something critical. Of course—he had forgotten to close his eyes! How silly of him—he was a dragon, after all. No human could be expected to be in their right mind while overwhelmed by the awesome power of a dragon's gaze.

Purring to himself in affirmation, and giving the boy on the bed a last caring glance, Toothless shuffled off in pursuit of the Viking chief.

* * *

Stoick had just stepped into the pantry and was in the process of selecting ingredients for a nice fish soup (since Hiccup couldn't very well eat _mutton_ while unconscious) when Toothless stuck his head through the doorway.

"Blasted lizard, can't you give me five minutes peace?" Stoick grumbled, angrily pulling things off the pantry shelves.

"Rrrwwl," Toothless said politely, and then stubbornly squeezed his entire body into the confines of the pantry area, cracking the doorframe in the process.

"What the! Thor almighty! You!" Stoick sputtered, brandishing a cooking spoon in a threatening manner as the contents of his meticulously stocked pantry came tumbling down in little avalanches around him.

"Hrrrrh," stated the dragon, and made a sound that was akin to a human clearing his throat. Then, quite deliberately, and looking thoroughly proud of himself, he repeated his earlier motion of holding out his front paw in the man's direction. Only this time, once his paw was in place, he closed his great green eyes, and gracefully, elegantly, he arched his neck and turned his head away.

Stoick the Vast was dumbfounded. And, he was angry. All Stoick knew was that a very large and possibly insane Night Fury was shoving a paw in his face, and was now acting all bashful about it. "What in Odin's name is the matter with you?" Stoick exploded, knocking Toothless' paw aside with the back of his hand. "You want me to kiss your royal foot, your majesty? Not going to happen! You may have my son fawning all over your scaly black hide and bowing to your every whim, but I am _not_ _him_!"

Toothless opened his eyes and looked back at Stoick, with all the innocence and all the wisdom in the world.

Stoick felt his eyes sting. He had finally reached his breaking point. Before he could stop himself, the fearless Viking warrior was hunched over in the middle of his pantry, sobbing into his palms.

Toothless observed this with great patience, not really understanding what was happening, but sensing that it was important. After a moment, he gave the man his best consoling rowl, and decided that perhaps he was going about this all wrong. Perhaps he was using the wrong sort of limb.

Determined to try again, Toothless squared his four paws on the ground and reached out towards the man with the wrist-joint of one of his wings.

Stoick looked up, tears streaking his ruddy cheeks, and observed something like an enormous folded-up umbrella being pointed at his face. His shoulders heaved up and down, and he gritted his teeth. All his emotions were quickly being distilled into rage, and would need just the slightest spark to erupt into violence.

"Ghh!" Stoick grunted, and angrily pushed the wing away. Completely by accident, the powerful shoulder-muscles of the Night Fury overcompensated for this motion, and the wing came swinging right back—and bumped into Stoick's shoulder.

And that was all the provocation the Viking chief needed.

The fight was on.

...to be continued...

* * *

_Author's note: hee, that was fun- and the best part is still to come! One thing, to all you anonymous reviewers, (especially "Just you,") will you please please please sign in so I can reply to your wonderful reviews? I feel so guilty when someone leaves me a great review and I can't send them a reply to thank them for it! _


	4. Ask For Advice

Chapter 4: Ask For Advice

* * *

Poor Toothless could not possibly have known that the ancient Viking ritual of 'I-shove-you-and-you-shove-me-back' _always_ led to a brawl. And thus, the dragon had no idea what was happening when Stoick pounced on him in an all-out attack, knocking him over backwards and out of the pantry.

"Rrrrh?" Toothless rumbled in surprise, as Stoick's arms clamped around his neck. The chief was trying to throw the dragon down onto his side in order to pin him to the ground, a move which _might_ have worked if Toothless hadn't braced his wings against the floor. Toothless scrambled backwards, trying to escape from the headlock, and wound up with his hind end completely in the fire.

This was of no consequence to a creature with fireproof skin, but as Toothless continued to back up, it became clear that he was going to drag Stoick through the flames if the man didn't let go of the Night Fury's neck. Realizing this, Stoick loosened his hold—just as Toothless made a final effort to throw him off.

The result was that Stoick went flying across the room until he crashed upside-down against one of the walls, shields and battleaxes raining down around him. Toothless looked up in concern, worried that his action had been too forceful, and might have seriously hurt the human.

But to the dragon's amazement, the Viking chief was already back on his feet, completely unharmed, and obviously eager to start round two.

This gave Toothless something to think about, and he sat down right where he was, canting his head to one side as he considered the bulky Viking with a whole new level of interest. It was sheer coincidence that he was sitting in the middle of the fire, which was the one place in the house where Stoick would think twice about resuming a wrestling match.

Stoick shifted his weight from side to side, irritated that the fight had been interrupted by the animal's cowardly retreat into the flames. "Come on!" he hollered at the dragon. "Let's go! Give me what you've got!"

The chief, predictably, was still of a mind that he could show the dragon who was boss, put it in its place. He didn't want to _kill_ the dragon, only teach it a lesson. Stoick was angry, and eager for an enemy to punish. And the Night Fury had never looked more devilish than it did at that moment, with its black body protruding from a nest of flames. Even its eyes seemed evil, as their usual green was washed out to a pale, luminous gold by the light of the fire around its feet.

Toothless' thoughts, however, were anything but wicked. As he stared at the chief with gleaming eyes, he was thinking back to one of those sunny, pine-scented afternoons in the cove, and the one and only time he had given Hiccup a good playful shove. The boy had been knocked unconscious straightaway, and Toothless had immediately realized that Hiccup was an unsuitable playmate for roughhousing.

But _Stoick_, on the other hand, seemed to be a different case entirely.

There was only one way to know for sure. Toothless crept forward out of the fire, eyes regaining their green as he did so. And when Stoick quite predictably attacked, Toothless deftly threw the man aside.

The chief crashed into the opposite wall of his house, where another collection of weapons went clattering to the floor. He staggered to his feet, white spots of light swirling in his vision. Stoick glanced across the room and must've been crazy, because he thought he saw the dragon smiling at him in joy. He could scarcely believe it-the beast had thrown him before he'd even gotten a good grip! Clenching his teeth, Stoick squared off against the dragon. It hadn't gotten the best of him yet, not by a long shot.

In response to Stoick's snarling expression, Toothless stopped smiling, dropped his head and mimicked him, baring his teeth and growling. This seemed an obvious indicator of malicious intent to the chief, who failed to notice the much more telling sign of the dragon's haunches, which were raised above its shoulders and wiggling eagerly side-to-side.

With a furious shout, Stoick dove at the Night Fury for a third attack, and this time the dragon bounded forward to meet him. The two crashed together in midair and were soon tumbling around on the floor. Toothless pinned Stoick several times, letting the man go each time only to pounce and pin him again, and each time the chief managed to spring to his feet and come back for more, louder and wilder than ever.

Feeding off Stoick's energy, Toothless became more and more enthusiastic as well, until at last he slammed the burly Viking to the ground flat on his back, knocking the wind from the man's lungs.

Exhausted, battered, and now sucking painfully for air, Stoick stayed down. Out of the corner of his vision he saw the wide-eyed Night Fury waddling towards him, peering down at him now in honest curiosity. Stoick closed his eyes, hurting, and not ready to move just yet. When he opened his eyes again there was a dragon's foot hovering over his chest.

Breathing deeper, heart still pounding from the fight, Stoick looked past the wide black paw and up at the dragon's face. Toothless' expression was neutral now, neither growling nor grinning, holding his paw out and sitting exceptionally still, as if waiting for something.

With the tiny sliver of imagination that he had, Stoick focused on the paw again and envisioned it being lowered onto his chest, slowly and deliberately crushing his ribcage. He didn't _really_ think the Night Fury meant to kill him any more than _he_ meant to kill _it_—they had moved passed that stage of their relationship, thankfully—but Stoick had no idea what the creature wanted from him.

All he knew was that the dragon had _won_. For the first time in Stoick's life, he had been beaten by a dragon. And while that didn't exactly make him _afraid,_ it did make him… uncertain. He just wasn't _sure_ anymore of what he was doing. The dragon had _won_. Was it holding its paw there to signify its victory, the way a human might hold a sword over a defeated opponent's head? What was it trying to convey?

"Hrrr," Toothless rumbled, a gentle suggestion.

"…I don't understand!" Stoick declared, and rolled away from the dragon's extended paw.

"_Rrrhf!_" Frustrated, Toothless put his paw back down, and then shook out his wings and refolded them.

Stoick wrapped his hand around one of the legs of Hiccup's bed and used it to pull himself to his feet. Once he was standing, he looked around his living room, which was a complete shambles. At last he spotted his helmet and picked it up, setting it firmly on his head. "…I'm going for a walk," he muttered, with a somewhat guilty glance at Hiccup.

Gaining resolve, he turned and faced the dragon. "You," he said with authority, and pointed at Toothless' nose. "Watch Hiccup." He pointed to the boy. Toothless just blinked at him. "Got it? Stay here. And don't burn down the house."

Toothless' tail flopped against the floor in a couple of restless little thumps, and he watched with very wide eyes as Stoick made his way to the door through the wreckage of furniture and weapons and household commodities that littered the room. When Toothless suddenly realized that the man meant to leave the house, he took a few steps forward, earflaps pressed back plaintively. He raised his neck and uttered one very small, questioning sound, but it was lost in the slam of the door.

* * *

Gobber had _just _gotten to bed when something began pounding on his door loudly enough to rattle the rafters. With a roll of his eyes, Gobber sat up and scratched his head, which was covered by a stocking-style cap (that probably wouldn't become fashionable for another thousand years) instead of his usual helmet. "Keep your knickers on," Gobber called, reaching for the peg leg that he had unfastened and set aside mere moments ago. "I'll just be a minute."

"Gobber, it's me," called a desperate voice.

The blacksmith's breath caught in his throat. _Stoick_. And Stoick meant… _Hiccup_.

Assuming the worst, Gobber forgot the rest of his leg and hopped the short distance from his bed to the door, leaning heavily on pieces of furniture along the way. Balancing on his one leg, he pulled open the door, face already white with fear.

There stood Stoick the Vast, sulky, brooding, and covered in bruises. Gobber searched his old friend's eyes for news of tragedy-while Stoick's gaze fell directly to Gobber's right knee, and the weirdly empty space beneath it. For a moment neither spoke.

"You're missing your leg," Stoick finally pointed out.

Gobber blinked, and let out a breath of relief. He nodded. "Lot of that going around."

Stoick gave him an incredulous, offended look, as if he couldn't believe Gobber had just made a joke about that, but then his expression crumbled. He sniffled, snuffled, made a sound that was half a laugh, and abruptly found himself needing to wipe his face on his meaty forearm.

"Err, perhaps you'd better come inside," Gobber suggested, before the chief's meltdown could get any worse. "I'll get you a drink."

"Thank you," Stoick snuffled, and made his way into the house. Gobber hopped to the nearest cupboard, and a few seconds later he pressed a tall mug into Stoick's hand.

"Hope you don't mind if I sit," Gobber said, finding a chair and helping himself to a matching mug. "So. Hiccup's all right?"

"It's the Night Fury," Stoick grumbled, sloshing some stale Viking grog onto his whiskers as he took a swig from the mug. "I don't know what to do about it. I think it's turned on me."

"Turned on you?" Gobber echoed, worried.

Stoick nodded. "Like a mad dog. It kept coming after me, throwing me around."

"You _do_ look like you've been in a scuffle. But then again, there aren't any _holes_ burnt in you…"

"It was my fault," Stoick confessed, clasping both hands around his mug. "I started it. That dragon made me so furious, Gobber, it just wouldn't leave me alone! It followed me around the house, _staring_ at me—and it kept doing _this_—" Stoick struck a pose, and thrust his palm out at Gobber's face.

Gobber went cross-eyed to look at Stoick's palm, and then looked back up at the chief. "Uh…"

Stoick sighed, and went back to holding his mug with both hands. "I mean, you know about _dragons_, don't you? What was it _doing_ that for?"

Gobber shrugged and sipped his grog. "I've no idea. Night Furies haven't exactly been part of my dragon training curriculum."

"But…what should I do?"

Gobber shrugged again. "Give it a fish," he suggested.

"It ate all the fish!"

The blacksmith rolled his eyes. "Look. I don't know what to tell you. I don't know any more about Night Furies than you do. Maybe it wants a pile of gold to sit on. Maybe it wants you to sacrifice a maiden to it."

Stoick looked insulted. "_What?_ What are we, savages?"

"All I'm saying is that your guess is as good as mine. I'm just happy it didn't try to eat any of us last night while we were waiting for the ship."

The chief gave his old friend a quizzical look. "You never tell me what I want to hear, do you?"

Gobber finished his grog with a little cough. "Stoick, all this change all at once is going to be tough. My advice is for you to go home and get some rest. The dragon will do whatever it is that it does. Just try not to start any more fights with it! Although…" Gobber hestitated, clearly holding back.

"What?" Stoick asked, voice flat.

With a deep breath, Gobber continued. "Well, I _do_ have a sort of a theory about that. Since he didn't bite your head off or burn you to ashes…"

"Go on," urged the chief.

"It's just a theory, but… maybe he was playing with you."

Stoick scoffed. "Of course it was playing with me. I was unarmed—it could have killed me at any minute."

"No, not _that_ sort of playing," Gobber corrected. "I mean _just_…playing."

"Hmph." Stoick narrowed his eyes, clearly not liking that theory at all. "He's too big for _just_ playing."

"Oh really?" Gobber asked, eyebrows high. "So, you know how big Night Furies get, do you? Here's something to think about: Night Furies have been a mystery to us all these years. What if the one Hiccup found is just a baby? What if he grows into those _eyes _of his someday, eh?"

For a second Stoick had a glimpse of that possibility, and envisioned a dragon that was as big as his whole house. He dismissed the vision with a scowl. "Hatchlings can't fly."

Gobber tipped his head, acknowledging that point. "That we know of," he added. "…But I'm not saying that's the case. I'm just saying there's a lot we don't know. And, so, maybe he was playing with you."

"Fine." Stoick grumbled. "Let's say it _was _playing with me. I still need to know what I should do about it."

Gobber had one of those rare looks on his face that meant he'd come up with something unfathomably wise. It was a quirk of his personality for which the entire village held him in high esteem. "Well, for now, I'd say you should do whatever _Hiccup_ would."

Stoick looked up.

That was the answer.

* * *

_Author's note: wow, this story is turning out to be longer than I expected. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews- I will leave a review reply to every single one, as soon as I can! Thanks for your patience! _


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